


I’m Always Coming Back

by stiless__halee



Series: Immortality is a Bitch [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, One-Sided Relationship, Scott is a Bad Friend, Stiles keeps dying, stiles is immortal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-28
Updated: 2015-03-28
Packaged: 2018-03-20 01:50:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3632115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stiless__halee/pseuds/stiless__halee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles just wants to figure out what's wrong with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I’m Always Coming Back

You don’t have to do this,” Derek murmurs. He places a warm hand on Stiles’s back, rubbing the area soothingly. “We’re the only two people who know about your problem. You can just go back to living your life like normal.”

Ignoring the flush that’s creeping up his spine, Stiles shakes Derek’s hand off. How could he say something like that? Didn’t he know that there wasn’t a “normal” life for him to return to? That his life hasn’t been “normal” since he was thirteen? That it damn sure hadn't been "normal" ever since Scott was bitten?

"We can’t just pretend like this didn’t happen, Derek," Stiles spits. He shakes his head, already reaching out for the door handle. "The alphas know that I can’t die, and they know that I might not be 100% human. If they figure out what I am, that can cause serious problems." His fingers are gripping the door handle so tightly that his knuckles have gone white.

Derek’s hand returns to Stiles’s back, and this time, Stiles melts into the touch. He allows himself to enjoy the feeling of Derek’s fingers kneading the sore muscles. He feels the tension slowly seep out of him, leaving him exhausted.

"I just need to figure out what I am," Stiles murmurs.

He hears Derek grunt, “I understand,” he whispers. The words are so quiet that Stiles has to strain to hear them. Stiles can feel himself snorting in response, and Derek responds by gently cuffing him on the head.

After a long silence, Derek speaks again, “It wasn’t easy being a werewolf.” He pauses to squeeze Stiles’s shoulder. “After Kate, it was easier to just believe that I was a monster -- to pretend that I caused my family's deaths.”

"What happened to you wasn't your fault, and you certainly aren’t a monster," the words tumble out of Stiles’s mouth before he can stop them. He blushes furiously, ducking his head to avoid Derek’s serious gaze.

"I know," Derek squeezes his shoulder again. The action oddly comforting. "I just needed time to figure that out."

Stiles looks up, shocked to see that Derek’s still staring at him. He can feel himself blushing harder, and desperate to escape the awkwardness of the situation, Stiles dashes inside.

Deaton stands behind the counter, one eyebrow raised at Stiles’s peculiar entrance. His eyebrow raises even higher when he sees Derek shuffling in behind Stiles.

"Hello, boys," Deaton smiles politely. "I see you’ve finally gathered the courage to come inside."

Stiles shrugs already beginning to feel uncomfortable. Maybe he should’ve chosen to just pretend like nothing ever happened. That option had to be better than dealing with creepy Deaton.

"We needed to talk to you," Stiles explains. He shoves his hands in his pockets to prevent from fidgeting. "Is there anyway we can talk in the back?"

Deaton pauses, eyes flitting between Stiles and Derek. He purses his lips, but gestures for the two to follow him into the back room. Once they’re all inside the small operating room, Deaton talks:

"What have you gotten yourselves into?"

Stiles flinches. “Nothing too bad,” he lies.

Derek snorts, shooting Stiles a disappointed look. It takes all of Stiles’s strength to not shrink under the weight of Derek’s gaze.

"We just need some answers," Derek adds. He folds his massive arms across his chest when Stiles rolls his eyes. "Stiles is having a health problem."

"Perhaps he should go to the hospital," Deaton advises. He looks between Stiles and Derek, his eyes calculating. Stiles feels defenseless under Deaton’s stare, and he shuffles closer to Derek.

"The hospital can’t help him," Derek responds easily. He returns his hand to Stiles’s back.

Deaton watches the exchange with mild amusement. “If the hospital can’t help him, why do you think that I can?” Deaton moves over to his supply cabinet, pulling out several jars of mountain ash. “If you have a problem with the alpha pack-“

"I died," Stiles interrupts Deaton, the words tumbling out of his mouth. He smiles awkwardly as Deaton lifts an eyebrow in response. "I’ve died a lot of times while I was with the alpha pack, but I kept coming back to life. We think that I might not be human."

Deaton’s full attention is on Stiles now. He gently returns the mountain ash to the cabinet before motioning for Stiles to sit on the exam table. “This is interesting,” Deaton murmurs. He watches as Stiles settles on the table, then me moves closer, grabbing Stiles’s wrist to check his pulse. “When did your first… resurrection… happen?”

“When I was thirteen,” Stiles replies quietly.

Deaton hums in response.

“I bashed my head in on some rocks,” Stiles continues. “At first, I didn’t think too much of it. Then I died the same night Scott got turned.”

“Peter killed him another time, too,” Derek adds. When Stiles shoots him a look, he shrugs.

Deaton, however, just nods his head. “I wish I could say that I’m surprised by Peter’s actions,” he pauses to look at Derek. “No offense.”

Deaton drops Stiles wrist, then heads over to his notepad, resting on a desk. He starts writing some information down then pauses, “I don’t suppose you’ve been beheaded.”

“I have,” Stiles responds. The memory of Deucalion’s hands slowly pulling at his head resurfaces. He can feel Deucalion’s claws digging into his cheeks, and he rubs at his face and neck to chase away the phantom fingers.

Derek’s hand landing on his shoulder jolts him out of the memory. He offers a the older man a shaky smile, ignoring the way Derek’s lips are twisted into a frown.

Unable to face Derek any longer, Stiles returns his attention to Deaton. The vet is digging through the supply cabinet again, shifting through various books.

“Your situation is peculiar,” Deaton notes. He lets out a satisfied noise when he finally pulls a thick, leather-bound book from the cabinet. He flips through the yellowed pages, stopping about halfway through. “But I think I know what you are.”

Stiles leans forward. His fingers grip the edge of the exam table, and he takes a unsteady breath to calm himself. After years of uncertainty, was he finally be getting some answers?

“You’re familiar with ancient mythology, Mr. Stilinski?” Deaton asks. He waits for Stiles to nod before continuing. “But I doubt you know where the myths come from.”

Stiles frowns. What did this have to do with anything?

“People like you were extremely common in ancient times. Obviously, they were immortal, but if properly trained, they could have immense power. They could control other people, the elements, emotions,” Deaton pauses and passes the book to Stiles. “They were called many things, but eventually, ancient people settled on calling them gods.”

Stiles glances down at the book. An illustration of a man in a toga wielding a lightening bolt, stares back at him.

“Are you saying that I’m Zeus?” Stiles asks in disbelief. He holds the book up, and Derek snorts when he looks at the page. “I doubt I’m an ancient Greek god.”

Deaton sighs, “Stiles. You’re immortal, and right now, your skills haven’t developed. Eventually, you will be able to manipulate things around you,” he points at the book, “It could be lightening. Plants. Weather. Anything.”

Derek tugs the book out of Stiles’s hands, flipping through a couple pages. “So when will his powers come?” He questions.

“Honestly,” Deaton shrugs. “People like Stiles prefer to stay with their own kind. They don’t like to hand out too much information. My knowledge is limited to the information in the book.”

“The only thing in here is what you told us, and that isn’t much,” Derek deadpans. He drops the book on the table, angrily. “How do we protect Stiles when we don’t know anything about him.”

Deaton shrugs again. “I suggest you don’t let Mr. Stilinski out of your sight,” he responds.

Stiles groans. Derek was just going to be lurking around him again? He enjoyed the man’s company, but it was too much to have him following him around all day.

“Can’t we try something else?” Stiles asks. He knows that he’s probably whining, but he’s beyond caring. He refuses to have Derek Hale stalk him. How would he have privacy? When would he have time to masturbate?

“The alpha pack is too much of threat,” Derek responds. He folds his arms across his chest, and Stiles rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, whatever,” He grunts.

 

Stiles curses to himself as he darts deeper into the woods. Somewhere behind him he can hear Ethan and Aiden howling. He hears another wolf howl off to his right, and he lets out another string of curses as he takes a sharp left.

This whole situation was Scott’s fault, really. If Scott had just stayed with Stiles instead of running off to go see Allison, then Stiles wouldn’t have made such an easy target. But no. Stiles’s dimwitted friend had to ditch him for Allison, and as a result, Ethan managed to sneak up on him while he was leaving the library.

Honesty, it’s  miracle that Stiles managed to get away, but the way things are going… he’s going to need a second miracle to survive this night.

Just as Stiles is starting to venture in what appears to be familiar territory, he trips over a tree branch. He lands on his face, wincing when his forehead smacks against the ground.

Before he can pick himself up, a large hand is lifting him off the ground by the back of his collar. He flails, hoping to wriggle out of his captor’s grip, but he doesn’t do anything besides kick himself a couple times.

“Stop moving,” Ethan’s voice hisses in his ear, and Stiles cringes.

“Yeah, kid,” Aiden adds, standing somewhere out of Stiles’s line of sight. “This will be easier if you just let it happen.”

Aiden’s words only encourage Stiles to fight harder. He manages to catch Ethan’s leg with one of his kicks, and and the werewolf is so surprised that he drops him.

Stiles scrambles forward, but before he can get far, Aiden’s foot is stomping down on his leg. He blacks out for a moment, his body spasming underneath the waves of pain.

“We weren’t supposed to hurt him,” Stiles can hear Aiden yelling. “Shit, just kill him already.”

Stiles’s body acts of its own accord. His arms fly out and a bright light erupts from his palms. He watches in fear as the light washes over Ethan and Aiden. He can smell flesh burning and he can hear their screams, but the light keeps pouring out of him.

He’s panicking now. Trying to stop whatever is causing the light, but the light only grows brighter. The heat is licking at his palms, singing off his own flesh, and before he can burn off his own hands, something sharp glides across his throat.

 

Stiles wakes up on Deaton’s exam table. Derek is staring at him, his hands hesitantly prodding at his throat. Stiles recognizes the distraught expression on Derek’s face. Derek used to look like that whenever Stiles would come back to life after Deucalion killed him. The fact that he’s staring at Stiles like that now must mean-

“Did I die?” Stiles asks, his voice raspyl.

Scott bursts into the room, Isaac and Allison hot on his heels. He tries to move to Stiles, but Derek steps in front of him, growling in warning.

“Step down, Scott,” Derek warns. 

From Stiles’s current position, he can’t see Derek’s facial expression, but from his body language, Stiles knows that Derek is two seconds away from attacking.

“You’re not my alpha, Derek,” Scott shoots back. He stands up straighter, a defiant look settling on his face. Jesus, Scott, was now the time to have this pissing match?

“You’re not even an alpha at all, actually. If anyone should be stepping down, it’s you,” Scott continues. Apparently, now was the time to have this pissing match.

“Scott, just leave it,” Stiles pleads. He tries to sit up, but Deaton gently pushes him back down murmuring that Stiles needs time to rest.

“It doesn’t matter that I’m no longer an alpha,” Derek retorts. “What matters is that you decided to leave Stiles unprotected.”

The silence that follows is heavy. Allison and Isaac guiltily look down at their shoes while Scott just freezes. He looks at Derek torn between wanting to fight back and knowing that the older man is right.

“I know,” he mumbles, shoving his hands in his pockets. He looks at Stiles, his eyes wide and pleading. “I didn’t mean to get you hurt-”

“You didn’t,” Derek responds sarcastically. “You got him  _killed_.”

Stiles, despite Deaton’s warnings, sits up. He makes sure to glare at Derek for a while before turning his attention to Scott, “I’m fine, Scott. It’s OK. You just made a mistake.”

“You don’t understand,” Scott argues. “I got you killed.”

“I’m immortal, Scott-”

“Stiles,” Scott interjects. “You didn’t come back right away like how you said you did while you were with Deucalion. You’ve been dead for two hours.”

Stiles frowns. That doesn’t make sense. Three and a half weeks ago, whenever he would die, he didn’t even black out. He just had to wait while his body slowly pieced itself back together. Why was he suddenly blacking out again?

“Perhaps, we should give Mr. Stilinski some space,” Deaton suggest softly. He crosses the room quietly, holding the door open for the wolves and Allison. “He needs time to recover in peace.”

Scott nods, giving one last smile to his best friend before exiting. Isaac and Allison both offer apologies then they’re following Scott. Stiles watches them leave sadly, giving Deaton a small wave when he too walks out.

Once the exam room is empty, Derek speaks, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Stiles rubs his neck. “Are you?”

Derek shrugs. “Watching you die is never easy,” he mumbles. “When you didn’t get up right away, I thought you might’ve actually…”

The unfinished sentence hangs in the air. He knows Derek struggles watching him die, but Stiles didn’t know he struggles this much.

“Can I ask you something?” Stiles whispers. He looks up at Derek, his heart pounding. “Why do you always follow me around? I thought we decided that Scott would be my babysitter.”

Derek laughs bitterly. “I follow you around for the same reason you’re always touching your neck,” he responds.

Stiles blushes, dropping his hand from his neck.

“You need to constantly check to make sure that everything is still connected to your body,” Derek explains. He pauses to swallow, his jaw clenching and unclenching. “I need to constantly check to make sure that you’re still alive. I don’t want to see you die again.”

Stiles nods. “Can I ask you something else?” When Derek nods, Stiles continues, “How did I die this time?”

“Deaton says your powers came in,” Derek mumbles. “He isn’t sure what your power was, or what triggered it, but you almost killed the twins. Deucalion must’ve caught you and slit your throat.”

Derek pauses to shake his head. “He left you on the steps of my old house. Scott, Isaac, and Allison found you.”

Stiles absorbs the information silently. He takes a few unsteady breaths before shakily rising to his feet.

“Derek,” he asks quietly. “Can you drive me home? I just need to be with my dad right now.”

Derek nods. “Yeah, I’ll take you home, kid.”


End file.
